The Other One
by E.G.R. Woods
Summary: [OOTP&HBP SPOILERS]The One with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies... What if Lord Voldemort had not chosen Harry as his enemy? What if he had decided not to underestimate the other One?AU story[CHAP 3&4 UP]
1. Prologue

The other One

-By E.G.R. Woods

Disclaimer: Original storyline, characters, events and places belong to the wonderful J.K Rowling. I'm just borrowing them.

Warning: Contains spoilers of 5th and 6th book.

Author's note: New characters and our favourite familiar ones will appear in the future.

* * *

-Prologue-

"They are here, master."

The figure sitting on the chair before the fireplace opened his eyes. He did not turn to the source of the voice, but he gazed into the crackling fire on the hearth, his thin lips curling into a smile.

"Send them in. We have business to attend," he said, his low voice close to a hiss. He waited for a moment, listening to the sound of the door to the room opening and closing, and footsteps approaching him from the left.

"My Lord, we have come to do your bidding. We have what you have asked for," one voice said.

The figure moved his gaze slowly to the side, glancing at the two cloaked figures bowing to him, half hidden by the shadows. They were afraid to come any closer. There was a long silence, but then the figure spoke up.

"Pity," he hissed. "What should I expect from you if, to do my bidding, you have had to become traitors?" The face turned back to the fireplace. "You have betrayed those who have given you all their trust, those who have placed their lives in your hands. How can I be sure that you will not betray my trust? How can I know that you will not turn your back on me? How will I know where your loyalty really lies?"

There was a whimper from one of the two cloaked men standing near the chair.

"My Lord… our loyalty lies with you and you only…" the one who hadn't spoken yet replied after a prudent pause.

"We will see about that," the figure answered, the smile reappearing on the pale face. The hands gripping the arms of the chair came together in front of him, long fingers touching at the tips. "Well… I am waiting."

One of the men came forward. "Wormtail, my Lord. I have been trusted with the location of the Potters," there was a tremble in the man's voice as he spoke. "They are just outside the village, in Godric's Hollow, hiding in the cottage of the forest clearing."

"Very well, Wormtail. This is most satisfying," the figure responded, then turned to the other man. "Come forth."

"Ignatius Black, my Lord," the man came from behind Wormtail and stood in the light of the fire. "I had been made secret keeper of the Longbottoms."

"Ignatius Black," the figure repeated. "I see. I had no doubt that you would cross over to the other side in no time."

"Indeed, my Lord. I am at your service," the man continued, feeling reassured by his master's words. "The Longbottoms are hiding in Godric's Hollow too. They have settled in the cottage at the very edge of the forest, near the village."

There was another long pause, the only sound being the crackling of the logs in the fire. The hands retook their places on the arms of the chair.

"I am very pleased with you two," he said, and the two men bowed low to him. "Once I have fulfilled the prophecy, I will look into your cases. You shall be rewarded greatly."

"My Lord, you are too kind," the two cloaked figures said almost at once.

"You may leave."

"Thank you, my Lord." With that, both men backed away from the chair and exited the room. The man who had been standing next to the door all the time came forth. He stood beside the chair.

"What now, my Lord?" he asked.

"Now we wait. I must plan my approach with caution." The hands came together at the fingertips once again.

"Shall we appoint a guardian to watch over the Potters's hideout till then?"

"No, Avery. The Potters's are no longer my main focus."

"You mean…"

A face emerged from behind the backrest of the chair, half-hidden by the shadows. "Yes. Inform Lucius and Bellatrix that I will be making my move on the Longbottoms. It shall not wait until after Hallow's Eve."

"Master, are you sure?"

"Are you questioning my judgment?"

The voice revealed certain anger in the tone. The man gave a slight tremble.

"No, my Lord… but with all due respect… you said it had been your judgment that had driven you to target the Potters… and I do not understand… what made you change your mind?"

The figure in the chair seemed to be somewhat satisfied by this inquiry.

"I have decided to not underestimate the other potential. My instinct tells me I should not do so. What do you think, Avery?"

Avery hesitated. Of course his master did not care for what he really thought. In his mind, it made no sense whatsoever to make this change of plans. The Potters's son had from the very beginning seemed a much larger threat, as big a threat a one-year-old baby could actually pose. Nevertheless, he found it quite odd that his master would change the plans so suddenly. But it was not his place to judge.

"I think… you are very wise, my Lord."

* * *

End prologue. Hope everyone likes this, and most importantly, understand where I'm going with this. 

As for Ignatius Black… well, let me get back to you on that one.


	2. Seal their fate

The other One

-By E.G.R. Woods

Disclaimer: Original storyline, characters, events and places belong to the wonderful J.K Rowling. I'm just borrowing them.

Warning: Contains spoilers of 5th book. I recommend reading the Order of the Phoenix before continuing.

* * *

-Seal their fate-

_October 31st, 1981_

Samantha Marsh sat alone in the living room, in the small cottage on the northern coast of Devon, fretting in the quiet night. Sipping her cup of tea, she tried to ease the rampage of emotions flooding her, not to disturb the baby in her womb. Sirius wouldn't like her to be in that state. He had assured her everything would be fine. And if Sirius Black said so, it had to be true.

It had been long hours since Sirius and Dumbledore had spoken. There had been something in the Headmaster's manner that revealed he was uneasy, even though he said there was nothing to worry about. Obviously, neither Sirius nor Samantha, whom usually did not question Albus Dumbledore, was convinced. Afterwards, Sirius had paced for a while in front of the fireplace, mumbling to himself. Then, without a second thought, he made ready to leave, saying he had the feeling something had gone wrong, and he had a record to set straight. Samantha's heart sank at the sound of the motorcycle speeding away; he had not come back yet, and she was getting more worried by the minute.

What if something really happened? Or what if something happened to Sirius? How would she be able to help him if she didn't even know where he had gone? There was virtually no way to contact anyone in any case: channels of communication, magic or _muggle_, were too risky to be used. She was isolated, and it was not a good thing to be distressed and isolated at the same time.

Sirius would be in a right state if he knew she was considering going out to look for him. No; she had to control herself. She was in no condition to go out. It would be too dangerous. And she would never leave Siobhan alone.

_Sirius is fine_, Samantha told herself. _He's perfectly capable of taking care of himself_. He was a clever and strong person, he always had been. That is how he had become the illustrious man he was now. And how she had fallen in love with him.

However, in all the years of knowing each other, she never believed she would find herself in this predicament. She never wanted to. Those were dark times for all the wizard community; there was so much uncertainty, and so much danger. She always felt unsafe. Everybody did.

Tonight had been even worse, the eeriness of Halloween night casting a particular spookiness to the atmosphere of uncertainty of every night. All day long she had been dreading this moment, although she was not fully aware of the reason. But since the sun had set, she had not stopped wringing her hands, and had she not been pregnant, she would have been pacing the hours away. It was almost midnight now, and she couldn't have a blink of sleep. Not with Sirius gone; not with the awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. That feeling of expectation, as if she was waiting for something to happen.

As if she knew something was going to happen.

It had something to do with the prophecy, that was for sure. Samantha didn't have the full story, but she knew of a prophecy Dumbledore had heard, something to do with the Potters and the Longbottoms. From the sombre mood that settled over them, it could only mean they were in danger. Something about their children; the Dark Lord might be after them.

Samantha bit her fingernail nervously. She was worried for her friends, Frank and Alice Longbottom, and Lily and James Potter. It had been days since she had seen them last, since she had heard of them. Dumbledore had performed a complex charm, the _Fidelius_ charm, on both families, so that they could go into hiding, and only the designated secret keeper would be able to divulge the location if he or she chose to do so. Only Dumbledore knew who the secret guardians were. Samantha knew, however, that James had wanted Sirius to be his and Lily's keeper, and Sirius had refused. She never understood why. Who else would be more worthy of James and Lily Potter's trust than Sirius Black?

She was brought out of her thoughts by the chiming of the grandfather clock. It was midnight. It was then that she felt it. Something terrible had happened. She knew it, deep down. The baby stirred inside; she felt it too. Samantha held her bump with trembling hands.

Sirius was fine, she could sense it. But something else had gone horribly wrong. Someone else was not fine.

Samantha felt like crying. A strong emotion washed over her, and she was genuinely afraid for the first time that night. The baby was jerking inside of her. Samantha leaned back in the armchair and let herself cry. Just as the tears began to fall, the baby slowly relaxed and became still, allowing Samantha to fall into an uneven and restless sleep.

* * *

Samantha was dreaming. It was a nightmare, actually. She dreamed a dark figure swooped down upon her, like a gust of black wind, and snatched her baby from her arms; then it swooped down on Siobhan's crib, taking her too. Samantha was about to cry for help, when she was startled out of her sleep by a strange noise.

When she opened her eyes, she was not fully aware of where she was. Just as she saw she had fallen asleep on the armchair, she also realized the strange noise was coming from the fireplace. The flames had raised high into the chimney and turned green, and with a whooshing sound, Sirius unfurled himself from the hearth, pale and covered in ash and sweat.

"Sam! Thank God you're alright! I was so worried!" he exclaimed breathlessly as soon as he spotted her. He rushed over, and hugged her and kissed her stomach. She was so perplexed, that she didn't respond. After a few seconds, he let go of her and looked her in the eye, his breathing still accelerated. He stood up and started walking back and forth in front of her, Samantha following him with her eyes.

"I shouldn't have gone. I should have stayed here with you and Siobhan. I'm sorry. But I had to. You will understand, Sam. There is some much that needs to be explained, so much that will be revealed," he was saying, talking at miles per hour.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice small. Sirius stopped and knelt in front of her, holding her shoulders.

"What happened?" he echoed, eyes wide and wild, hands shaking. His dark hair fell messily into his face, making his expression even wilder. "What happened, my dear, is a wonderful and yet terrible thing. Tonight is going to change everything. What happened tonight is what we all have been waiting for too long now." He paused and licked his lips, as if he were trying to find the best way to say what he wanted to say, or perhaps he was just building up the suspense.

"He's gone."

Samantha frowned. "Who's gone?"

"Voldemort."

Samantha instinctively recoiled at the name. Sirius and few others used You-know-who's real name without even flinching. But then she registered what he had said, and frowned again.

"Gone?" she looked at him in wonder.

"Gone." Sirius was nodding, a smile lighting up his face. Samantha's mouth opened and closed several times. She wasn't sure if this meant what she thought it could mean.

"What does this mean?"

"It means, dear, that the days of darkness and fear are over. He's gone, he cannot do any more harm," Sirius's voice was rising, echoing in the quiet house. Sam couldn't smile; she didn't know if she was actually happy. That dreadful feeling still tugged at her gut.

"Are you sure?" she asked, still not believing it. It seemed too good to be true; perhaps she was still dreaming. "How do you know he's gone?"

Sirius stopped smiling and settled down again. "It might be too soon to tell for sure. But Dumbledore said… he said Voldemort's not gone for good, but he's gone for now. He might come back, or he might never return."

"Dumbledore said it?" Samantha said.

"Yes, I spoke to him, just recently. I come from his office," Sirius replied, shaking some of the ash off his coat. "He reckons Voldemort will come back, but it will be a very long time before he does."

"But I don't understand," Samantha said hesitantly. Her head was spinning, trying to make sense of what Sirius was telling her. "How? How is he gone?"

Sirius became sad all of a sudden. He stood in front of the fireplace, gazing into the hearth for what felt like a long time. He turned back to Samantha and took a deep breath.

"This is the part of the situation… this is why it's also a terrible thing," he said. He looked into her eyes, and Samantha could see that their spark had vanished.

"Dumbledore was right, Sam. Harry and Neville… Voldemort wanted them, after all. I don't know why, the headmaster won't say. But Voldemort went to find them…"

"How would he know where to find them?" Samantha asked fearfully. Sirius's gaze hardened, eyes fixed on her belly, but not really seeing it.

"Dumbledore always seemed more concerned about James and Lily, and about Harry," he seemed to be talking more to himself than to Samantha. "He thought it was most likely Voldemort would seek them. I did too…" he glanced at her, then looked away again. "I thought they were the ones in danger. I thought Remus was their secret keeper, and for some reason I couldn't trust him. I felt almost sure that he was capable of betraying them," he confessed apologetically. Samantha was shocked; she knew Remus Lupin very well, and he was one of the nicest and most noble wizards she had ever met, for someone who had been well known at school for dangerous high jinx, and for someone who was a werewolf. He was Sirius's best friend after James. Samantha could not imagine why Sirius would think his friend could be a traitor.

"So I went looking for him," Sirius continued, wanting to get it off his chest. "When I couldn't find him, I went to Dumbledore. I knew he wouldn't tell me who the keepers were, but at least he should be able to tell me whether or not they were trustworthy." He inhaled deeply. "He said… they were not."

Samantha thought she had misheard. "Come again?"

"They were traitors, Sam. Both of them, they betrayed our trust. Dumbledore told me it had all gone wrong, and he was worried."

Sirius rose to his feet and began pacing again, enraged. "Lily and James, Peter," he muttered, his clenched fist shaking. "And my rotten cousin, Ignatius, he was Frank and Alice's secret keeper, he betrayed them too." He shut his eyes hard before looking at Samantha again. There was pain in his eyes.

"He killed them, Sam. Frank and Alice…" his voice trailed off.

Samantha swallowed. This was it; this was what she had been dreading. "Frank and Alice… dead?" she whispered.

Sirius nodded sombrely. "Yes," he said, his voice deeper. "He found them, and he killed them. He also tried to kill Neville, but…" he sighed and shook his head. "He couldn't. I don't know how or why, maybe not even Dumbledore knows, but it was precisely when Voldemort tried to kill Neville that his powers vanished, and he disappeared."

Samantha's eyes were wide with surprise. Then they became sad. "Frank and Alice," she repeated under her breath, the truth sinking in just then. "What about Neville? What happened to him?"

"He's fine," Sirius's eyes were still devoid of their shine. "He has a scar on his forehead. I reckon that would be where Voldemort's curse hit him. It's like it bounced on him. But he's okay, I saw him. When Dumbledore told me he was worried for Frank and Alice, I went to check on them. The house was in ruins."

Samantha gasped, her hand going to her mouth.

"Hagrid arrived almost at the same time I did. We both knew what had happened. He pulled Neville out of the rubble. Dumbledore had sent him to get Neville. I lent him my bike so that he could get the baby to Dumbledore as soon as possible. Then I went to see Dumbledore again. He told me James and Lily and Harry were all fine. He also told me to come home, and forget about my cousin and about Peter. I promised to him I would. I came straight here."

Samantha was very still for a moment. Then she embraced Sirius, and they held each other for a long time.

"He couldn't kill a baby," Sirius said into her ear, as if still in disbelief. "Something must have happened. Maybe the curse deflected back onto Voldemort… and now he's gone. He could be dead, he might never come back. Who knows? He just vanished, so suddenly. He was so powerful, how could a baby…? I couldn't believe it, you know? I still can't… Neville lived, great wizards, and… he just, he lived!"

Samantha said nothing. She only allowed Sirius to ramble on, tears overflowing her eyes. But Sirius leaned back and became quiet. He wiped away her tears and then his own.

"We should get some rest," his voice was unsteady. "It's been a very long night. Tomorrow, we will go see Dumbledore. I really hope he can give us some answers."

She could only nod. He helped her stand up and she clutched his hand. "I felt it, you know?" she spoke softly. "I had a feeling something had happened," she caressed her stomach, fingers still trembling slightly. "He felt it too."

Sirius caressed her belly too. "It's going to be fine now. It's all over."

"I hope Neville's okay," Samantha whispered.

Sirius smiled faintly. "He will be."

* * *

Don't be surprised if I rambled too much in this chapter. I finished typing this on Halloween, with a few too many candy bars in my system and no sleep because I got home last night at 3 and woke up at 8 and I drank too much coffee today to keep myself awake. And you know what? That's not such a good idea. Don't try it at home. 


	3. The Boy Who Lived

The other One

-By E.G.R. Woods

Disclaimer: Original storyline, characters, events and places belong to the wonderful J.K Rowling. I'm just borrowing them. New characters belong to me and other people who are so kindly lending them to yours truly.

Warning: Contains spoilers of 5th and 6th book.

Author's note: The first time I tried this, I decided to simply translate the first chapter of the Philosopher's Stone, just for the sake of accuracy and keeping the tie between the real books and my piece of fiction. But people complained. I decided to redo it.

* * *

_"It means that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times."_

_Harry felt as though something was closing in upon him. His breathing seemed difficult again._

_"It means – me?"_

_Dumbledore surveyed him for a moment through his glasses._

_"The odd thing is, Harry," he said softly, "that it may not have meant you at all. Sybil's prophecy could have applied to two wizard boys, born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course was you. The other was Neville Longbottom."_

_--Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 37.

* * *

_

- Chapter One -

The boy who lived

"Bloody garden gnomes!"

Minerva McGonagall stumbled slightly as she rubbed the top of her head bitterly. The aforementioned garden gnome zig-zagged away, holding its head after the blow it got from crashing head on with a striped cat; then hurriedly disappeared in fear among the rosemary bushes when it looked back and realized the cat was not a cat anymore, but an tall thin woman in an emerald green robe. The sound of the gnome's tiny feet scuffing at the grass vanished as it got further. McGonagall glared severely after it through her square-framed glasses. Those creatures were the main reason why not having a garden was rather a blessing.

Adjusting her green pointed hat, she strutted over to the back door of the Longbottom residence, suddenly feeling the chilly dark aura that surrounded the great house. It was midnight, but the kitchen windows cast pale yellow squares of light onto the grass of the backyard. The Longbottoms were wide awake, no doubt about it. This was not a night of peaceful rest.

"Good evening, Professor McGonagall."

McGonagall tensed and turned to her right, wand aloft, only to find herself face to face with a familiar person. He was a tall, thin and very old man, with long white hair and beard that reached down to his waist, and he was wearing a purple cape and a black pointed hat. At the sight of him, McGonagall let out a sigh of relief.

Albus Dumbledore's brilliant blue eyes looked at her warmly through the half moon-shaped glasses perched on the end of his long, twisted nose. "It's very nice to see you. Although I must say I certainly didn't expect to find you here."

McGonagall looked at him strangely. He was standing in the shadows, but his eyes seemed to glisten in the dark. She approached him, and spoke in a hushed voice. "You're the one who called me here, Albus."

Dumbledore nodded in comprehension. "I reckon I did, yes. What I meant is, I didn't expect you to arrive before I did."

"Well, I have my own means of travel. And besides, I like to go around unnoticed."

Dumbledore knew she was referring to her cat shape. "My dear professor, you mean that you have been running around all day? And here I thought you would like to have joined some of the celebrations. I must have come across dozens of parties on my way here," he said with a sly smile. With her black hair neatly pulled back into a bun and her severe aspect in general, McGonagall did not exactly seem like the kind of person who frequented parties. She looked ill-humored at the mention of celebrations.

"Honestly, Albus, I would say these celebrations have gotten a bit out of hand. Even the _muggles_ noticed. They are not that dense." Professor McGonagall sighed angrily. "It was on the news."

"Are you sure that what you saw was not the broadcasting of _muggle_ Halloween parties?" Dumbledore asked. He seemed to be teasing. Professor McGonagall clenched her teeth.

"Yes, I am sure."

He tried to hide his wry smile. They both looked up suddenly as a whole flock of owls flew over the surrounding grounds. They had been doing that all day, carrying newspapers and letter back and forth all over the country. The _muggles_ considered it a strange behaviour; it even appeared on the television, a broad report about owls flying massively in broad daylight.

"Perhaps you are right, Minerva. But we have had so very little to celebrate for eleven years," Dumbledore replied. "I think a little disarray is exactly what we all need."

Professor McGonagall sniffed. "A _little_ disarray, you say? They all seem to have lost their minds, the whole lot of them. You'll have to forgive me if I don't share your enthusiasm, Albus, but I don't think it's prudent to celebrate yet. Not when things are so uncertain. I don't suppose you believe You-know-who is gone completely, do you?"

Dumbledore didn't reply. He was looking for something in his robes, fumbling through every pocket (it seemed he had a lot of them). McGonagall cleared her throat. "Well, do you?"

"Surely that is what it seems," Dumbledore said.

McGonagall was quiet for a moment, watching Dumbledore pull various objects out of his pockets as he kept searching. Most of it seemed to be _muggle_ candy; several lemon sherbet wrappers fell to the ground, and he picked them up and put them back into his pockets.

"I don't mean to question your reason," McGonagall continued, trying to ignore the fact that Dumbledore had just pulled a rubber chicken, a spatula and a tennis shoe out of his robes, then put them back in, "but I really would like to know, exactly, what makes you think You-know-who's gone?"

"Minerva, surely someone as wise as yourself would understand there is nothing wrong with using the proper name: Voldemort," Dumbledore said. Professor McGonagall did a sort of flinching move, backing slightly in fear, but Dumbledore didn't notice because he was still busy rummaging through his robes.

"But of course, you wouldn't have that problem yourself. Most people know for a fact that your situation is different. You are, after all, the only one You-Know—oh, well, _Voldemort_ ever feared."

"You flatter me, professor. Voldemort had powers I never did."

"Only because you are too… noble to use them."

"I'm lucky it's dark. I had not blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

McGonagall rolled her eyes. She could never understand how the old man could be so nonchalant and cheerful in moments like this. Finally, Dumbledore pulled out a pocket watch, but it wasn't a regular pocket watch. Instead of numbers, it had little planets moving along the edge. Dumbledore studied it, obviously knowing how to read it, and then put it back into his robes. "We have arrived just in time," he said, glancing at the door of the

"Albus, I'm sorry to be persistent, but I am a bit in the dark here," McGonagall said.

"Well, we _are_ standing in the shadows."

"That is not what I mean," McGonagall replied in exasperation. Dumbledore was being rather cheeky. She looked at him anxiously. "I'm not even sure of what I'm doing here. I guess I just want to know the truth."

Again, Dumbledore didn't answer. McGonagall continued. "I've heard many rumors already, I heard things on my way here, and I don't know for sure what to be certain of. What the facts are, what really happened. How he disappeared."

"All will be known when the time comes," Dumbledore said sombrely. "You will get your answers."

McGonagall felt heavy-hearted. By Dumbledore's tone of voice, she had the inkling that the rumors she had heard might all be true, and then the news wouldn't be so good either.

"We should get inside. They are waiting for us," Dumbledore said. McGonagall just nodded, and she followed the old man toward the steps up to the kitchen door. Dumbledore knocked very lightly, and a few moments later, a plump old woman with wispy white hair opened the door.

"Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, how nice to have you here. Please, do come in," Augusta Longbottom said in a forced cheerful voice, although her face conveyed a look of utmost sorrow. The two professors made their way through the threshold, returning the greeting, and entered the kitchen. The dim lighting was coming from large wrought-metal candleholders dripping wax onto the counter, and a roaring fire in the hearth of the fireplace. A red washcloth was floating above the sink, drying dinner plates all on its own accord.

"Good evening, Augusta. Theodore," Dumbledore said as he walked further into the house. Theodore Longbottom, slouched in a wide burgundy armchair with large red and green plaid cushions, barely gave an acknowledging hand wave, his face grim and his eyes dropping tiredly. He was a balding man with a pot-belly and a wide, squashed nose. Mr. Longbottom pushed himself slightly upright and settled back against the cushions.

"Let's put the formalities past us, Dumbledore. It's much too late for that," he said in a slow, slightly slurred voice. "Just tell us what you have come for tonight that couldn't wait until morning."

"Theo, fer God's sake! It's the middle of the night, and Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall have had a long journey. Be a bit more hospitable, will yeh?" Mrs. Longbottom reprimanded. Mr. Longbottom only grumbled something unintelligible, and his wife muttered something under her breath. McGonagall looked at Dumbledore worriedly, feeling like an intruder on their privacy, but Dumbledore's face was blank, because he was trying to hide his amused smirk.

"May I offer you anything? Tea, water, some firewhisky? Something to eat, perhaps?" Mrs. Longbottom asked kindly. "Where'd that house-elf get to now? TWIGGY!"

Two seconds later, a creature with a big head and large bat-like ears, and a long pointy nose popped out from behind the counter. Her body was surprisingly thin, her limbs like twigs, making her head and large feet look even bigger, and she wore what looked like an old pink shawl draped around her body like a toga, held together by a safety pin. Blinking her large shiny black eyes in surprise at the sight of the visitors, she did an awkward curtsy for each, then approached her mistress and repeated the gesture.

"Would you kindly prepare something for our guests? I would like a tea myself, and Mr. Longbottom is too asleep to want anything," Mrs. Longbottom instructed to the tiny house-elf, and McGonagall saw Theodore's head was lolling on his left shoulder and he was beginning to snore. "And light the living room fireplace," Mrs. Longbottom continued. Twiggy nodded and did another curtsy. Then she turned silently to Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"A tea, please," Dumbledore said, and Twiggy curtsied.

"Nothing for me, thank you," said McGonagall, and Twiggy curtsied again. She rushed around doing her mistress's bidding; the living room was promptly lit and warm by a roaring fire in the hearth, and suddenly the house-elf was standing on top of three stools piled one onto the other, boiling water for the tea.

"Let's step, then, into the living room, if you please. Now, to what do we owe this surprising visit?" Mrs. Longbottom said with a friendly smile, in spite of her obvious unease. McGonagall and Dumbledore took a seat on the plush couch in front of the fireplace, while Mrs. Longbottom plopped onto a dark green armchair across from them.

"My dear lady," Dumbledore began, his voice balanced to make himself heard only to the people in the room, "I am sure that you have already caught a whiff of the rumors going around about an event of utmost importance that took place last night."

"If you are referring to the destruction of You-know-who, you are correct. And it is the best news any of us have had in a very long time, wouldn't you agree?"

"I do agree. And I would have joined in the celebrations taking place all over the country to commemorate this most awaited day, if it were not for the reason that we are here."

Twiggy entered the living room carrying a large tray on top of her head, filled with assorted cakes and cookies and a pot of tea and two cups for Dumbledore and Mrs. Longbottom. She set it on the coffee table and poured the tea on the two cups. "Thank you," said Dumbledore, and Twiggy curtsied, then turned to her mistress.

"Thanks, Twiggy, that will be all," said Mrs. Longbottom, and Twiggy curtsied again and left. "Just tell me something, professor, because I trust your knowledge and your judgment," said Mrs. Longbottom as she scooped a teaspoon of sugar into her tea, and Dumbledore smiled. "Do you believe that it's true? That he is gone? Is that something we can be certain of?"

Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore brought his own cup of tea to his lips and took a slow, thoughtful sip. "As I was telling professor McGonagall just before we came in," he said finally, "everything indicates that he is. That is all I can tell you for certain. And that is what has brought us here tonight."

McGonagall tapped her fingers on her knee anxiously. Actually she had no idea of why she was there. She just wanted to hear what Dumbledore had to say. He, in the meantime, took another sip of his tea and set the cup back on the table, then treated himself to a cinnamon cookie.

"I've been having a bad feeling about this, Dumbledore, ever since you told us you were paying us a visit at this time. If this is not after all, a pleasant visit, then I suggest you come out and say what you've come to say," Mrs. Longbottom said, stirring her tea loudly. Her friendly smile turned to a knitted-brow look.

"The thing is, my dear lady," Dumbledore continued, "that the reason Voldemort is gone" (Mrs. Longbottom flinched, and McGonagall stopped her tapping and seemed to have a facial spasm), "had something to do with where he had gone last night. He was in Godric's Hollow, and he found your son and his wife and their baby. I believe, and I think I am quite right to say, that Frank and Alice put up a very good fight, trying to protect their son. But they could not…" Dumbledore paused, taking a deep breath. "Voldemort killed them."

After the words left his mouth, it seemed as if hours went by before anything happened. McGonagall stared open-mouthed at the headmaster in sheer stupefaction. The rumors she had heard were true, most unfortunately, she realized with a heavy heart. All day long people had been celebrating the Dark Lord's surprising but most welcome disappearance, but they didn't know what it had cost.

The silence was only broken when the teacup unexpectedly slipped out of a thunderstruck Mrs. Longbottom's hand. The china broke and the tea spilled all over the carpet. "Oh, my goodness!" she yelped in spite of herself, looking at the mess. Twiggy promptly rushed into the room, carrying a broom and dustpan, and swept the carpet clean of china fragments, then rushed out and back in with a washcloth and some water, scrubbed the tea off the carpet and dried it, then curtsied to her mistress before zipping out again.

A long pause followed this display of diligence, and then Dumbledore spoke again. "I am terribly sorry for your loss. I wish I hadn't been the one to bring you such painful news."

It appeared that Mrs. Longbottom was having difficulty absorbing Dumbledore's words, because her face was twitching, and her eyes shifted from one side to the other, hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly. McGonagall feared she was going to have a fit. Then Mrs. Longbottom's perplexed face turned to a frown and then to an expression of disturbance. Her mouth was shaking, then she looked at Dumbledore fixedly, as if expecting him to deny everything he had said. Dumbledore bowed his head. Mrs. Longbottom's eyes, as wide as dinner plates, frantically looked around.

"Th-Theodore! Hear this! It's your son he's talking about! Dead, he says! Theodore, for the love of God! Dumbledore—Professor McGonagall… is it—is it true!"

Mrs. Longbottom was stammering, looking bewildered, her hands still grasping the armchair while she did a sort of thrashing around on her seat, as if she had been shackled to the chair and could not get up. Twiggy sprinted in holding a fan, and started waving it in front of her mistress to fan her face.

"Gerroff, Twiggy! There's no need to—" Mrs. Longbottom slapped her away flustered. Twiggy backed away nervously, did another curtsy and ran out, while Mrs. Longbottom tried to get up from her seat, but her legs seemed to fail her. McGonagall considered helping her up, but she didn't want to get slapped like Twiggy. "Theo! Are you listening? Wake up and listen! Frank and Alice—what in the name of—FRANK! THEODORE! WAKE UP!" Mrs. Longbottom continued yelling. From the kitchen they could clearly hear Mr. Longbottom's loud snoring. Mrs. Longbottom suddenly frowned and leapt to her feet and drew out her wand.

"YOU LAZY OLD WART! GET OVER HERE NOW! WAKE UP!"

There was a zapping sound and a yelp of pain, and McGonagall knew that whatever spell Mrs. Longbottom had hit her husband with, it had worked perfectly. The robust balding man strutted out of the kitchen, rubbing his behind slightly, his face twisted in pain.

"What the bloody hell did you have to do that for?" he demanded, voice groggy.

"Your son is dead, Theo. He and Alice were killed by—" Mrs. Longbottom began forcefully, but then she cut herself off. She gripped her wand tightly until her knuckles were white, and her face turned stone-like.

"I greatly regret to inform you," Dumbledore interjected, "that your son and his wife have been murdered by Lord Voldemort, last night in their cottage in Godric's Hollow. The reason why he vanished during this attack is what has brought me here for another very important announcement."

Mrs. Longbottom scratched the top of his head, his eyes glued to Dumbledore but not really seeing him, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Frank and Alice… I cannot believe it… I don't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…" McGonagall spoke for the first time in a long time. She had been holding her breath and her voice all this time; she knew the rumors going around about the Longbottoms, but hearing it from Dumbledore was a completely different thing. If those rumors were true, then the ones about how the dark wizard was destroyed were likely true as well.

Dumbledore patted her in the back. "I know… I know…" he said sadly.

"I don't understand," Mr. Longbottom said again.

Mrs. Longbottom seemed to be still mildly shocked. With a mere swish of her wand, the armchair she had been sitting on lurched forward and stopped right behind her, so she only had to squat down to sit. It was as if she was using all her strength not to cry or pass out. "What else do you have to tell us, Dumbledore?" she asked after a long pause, her voice sounding tired.

"I understand this is a grievous time for you, but I hope you will find solace in knowing what Frank and Alice left behind," Dumbledore explained. "I am talking, of course, of your grandson."

Mrs. Longbottom blinked several times, as if she was making sure he was not a figment of her imagination. "Neville?" she asked in a small voice. "Neville is alive?"

"Yes, he is," Dumbledore replied with a comforting smile. "You see, it appears that when Voldemort showed up at the cottage of Godric's Hollow, his intention was to eradicate all the Longbottoms. But… he couldn't."

Another long pause followed this statement. Mrs. Longbottom had her hand over her mouth.

"It's amazing… it's simply amazing," McGonagall blurted out, despite her effort to stay quiet. She felt she had no place to speak up when this family was getting such sombre news. "I can't believe it's true."

"I don't… understand," Mr. Longbottom said yet again. But he took a wobbly step forward and continued. "What do you mean he couldn't kill him? He's just a baby! And You-know-who is—well, was— the greatest dark wizard ever! After all he has done, all the people he killed…He was more powerful than anyone! How could he not kill a baby?"

"Shut it, Theodore! It doesn't matter now, does it? Neville is alive! He's alive! He survived You-know-who's attack!" Mrs. Longbottom was shouting again, but she sounded relieved. "Merlin's beard! Where is he? Where is my grandson? Is he alright? Is he the reason You-know-who has been destroyed?"

Dumbledore seemed to think a moment, as if keeping himself from giving out too much. "That is the general opinion."

McGonagall's voice cracked as she spoke. "Of all the things that could have stopped V-Voldemort… a little baby… How did Neville survive, Dumbledore?"

"We can only guess," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps we'll never know."

McGonagall got the impression that Dumbledore was, not so much as lying, but not telling the whole truth. She had the distinct feeling that he knew a lot more than he was disclosing. Dumbledore gave her a look, as if to say this was a matter that should not be discussed presently. Then he turned to the elder couple.

"Neville is fine. He's in perfect health," he continued. "It has been a long night and a very long trip for him to be taken to safety after he was rescued from the cottage. He has been kept in a safe place and received the proper care, I assure you. We only wanted to make sure he was in no harm. And now that I have had the opportunity to tell you what has happened, it is time for Neville to be reunited with his family."

"He's coming here? With us?" Mr. Longbottom asked in a small, squeaky voice.

"Of course. I believe it's safe to say that here he will receive the love and upbringing he requires. You are, after all, his grandparents," Dumbledore explained. Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom nodded in understanding. McGonagall eyed the elder couple; they both seemed rather reluctant at the idea of having their grandson come live with them, with a certain air of unease, which had either to do with the fact that Neville had reportedly been touched by Voldemort, or with the issue of them being too old to be raising a baby at this time of their lives.

Mrs. Longbottom rose to her feet with scared determination. "We must fix up a room in the house for him," she said, conjuring a smile. "There's a bedroom across from our own that we will need to tidy up quite a bit, but it'll do. Twiggy!" she called, and instantly, the skinny house-elf was standing before her. "Please prepare the empty bedroom in the second level. Have it ready for tomorrow morning," Mrs. Longbottom indicated in a hurried, excited tone. But before Twiggy could curtsy, Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Actually, we are expecting Hagrid to bring Neville tonight. He is, regrettably, running a little bit late, but I would say they should arrive any minute now," he informed. Twiggy turned to her mistress again.

"Oh. Then I guess you should hurry," Mrs. Longbottom said. Twiggy nodded and curtsied and, with a snap of her fingers, she had disapparated.

"See here, Dumbledore. This is not the sort of thing you do in the middle of the night," said Mr. Longbottom, who, in spite of being apparently past his confusion, was now looking quite droopy-eyed again. "You could have told us earlier and brought him here at a decent hour! We would've prepared ourselves for receiving him. But it's been ages since a baby has actually passed through this house, let alone lived here." He put a hand to his head in a gesture of concern.

"I would've liked to have been able to let you know sooner about this, but until we could be sure the plan could be taken into action, until we were sure everything would work out perfectly, we didn't want to risk it. Our main concern was always keeping your safety, and Neville's, at heart," Dumbledore said. "I know it is not the easiest thing to do, bringing a child into this home when you haven't cared for children in a long time, but my instincts tell me you have nothing to worry about; you will be wonderful. I don't think Neville could ask for a better place where to grow up."

Sadly, McGonagall thought the only other better place for Neville had been taken away by Voldemort. She shuddered. Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom looked at each other uncertainly for the hundredth time already. McGonagall led Dumbledore into the kitchen briefly.

"Albus, _Hagrid_ is bringing the boy? Do you think it's wise to trust Hagrid with something so important?"

"My dear professor, you have to learn to have more faith in Hagrid, seeing as he had proved himself worthy of all of our trust so far. I assure you, Neville is perfectly safe with him."

As if on cue, Dumbledore was interrupted, however, by a deafening noise that broke the silence all around the house. The professors and the Longbottoms looked around, searching for the source, as the noise became steadily louder. The four of them eventually looked out the window at the dark grounds, then up at the sky. At that instant, a heavy motorcycle fell right off the air and landed a few feet away from the kitchen door.

The enormous man riding it removed his goggles. Shaking his wind-swept wild black hair and beard, he got off the bike carefully, holding a lump wrapped in blankets in his large muscular arms. He approached the house as Dumbledore, McGonagall and Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom stepped out to greet him.

"Good evening, Hagrid. I was beginning to wonder where you had gotten to," Dumbledore said, patting Hagrid on the arm.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout the delay," Hagrid said sheepishly. "Bloody owls flyin' all over the place, an' those ruddy fireworks an' rockets've made air traffic a bit difficult. But it was smooth most o' the way. This li'l guy fell asleep righ' over Bristol." As gently as he could, he held the sleeping baby out to Mrs. Longbottom, who held him in her arms tightly, both she and Mr. Longbottom looking down at his face with great concern.

"Any problems over there?" Dumbledore continued.

"None, sir. I got 'im out jus' before them _muggles_ started ter show up," Hagrid replied.

"Where did you get this motorcycle, Hagrid?" McGonagall asked.

"'Tis borrowed, professor. Sirius Black len' it ter me. I'm sure he'll be expectin' it back soon."

"Yes, Hagrid, you can go and return it to him. I believe you have done more than enough here tonight. Thank you very much," Dumbledore smiled at the giant. Hagrid nodded, but looked uncertainly at the Longbottoms.

"Thank you, sir. But I—I wondered… may I please... say goodbye to him?" he asked shyly. Dumbledore smiled broader and nodded. Hagrid approached Neville's grandparents, and he leaned his large dishevelled head over the baby and gave him a kiss on the top of the head, scrapping him slightly with his beard. Unexpectedly, he gave a whimper that sounded more like a howling dog.

"Hagrid! You'll wake him!" McGonagall scolded.

"I… I'm sorry," Hagrid wept and he blew his nose loudly with a large handkerchief. "But I can't bear it… Frank an' Alice dead… and poor li'l Neville's lost his mum an' dad…"

"Yes, yes, it's very sad, we know, but you must control yourself," McGonagall said. "Neville is not alone, you know. He has his grandparents. He will be fine."

"I know… well, I should be going. I'll return the motorcycle ter Sirius. Good evenin', Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore. Good evenin', Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom." And clambering back onto the huge bike, Hagrid started it up once again and disappeared in the black night sky.

"Dumbledore, what is this on his face?" Mr. Longbottom asked. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall leaned over the blankets. Beneath the flecks of brown hair, on the forehead, they could see a scar of curious shape, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that the spot where he…?"

"Yes. That is where the curse touched him. He will have that scar forever," Dumbledore responded.

"Is there anything we can do about it?"

"Even if there was, I don't think you should. Scars can sometimes be useful."

McGonagall had no idea of what Dumbledore might mean by that, about what could be so useful about a scar, but she had learned a long time ago that this sort of comment from Dumbledore was usually not so beside the point.

"You do understand what this means, don't you, professors?" Mrs. Longbottom began. "If what you have told us is true… If our grandson has done what even the most accomplished wizards have not even come close to achieving… it's unbelievable. Neville will be famous, a legend… Everybody in our world will know his name!"

"Yes, you are quite right. Which is why we must be very watchful of him," Dumbledore said. "All of this is enough to confuse any child. He's become famous while still being a baby. And he won't even remember why! There will be a time for everything. There will come a moment when he will be ready to learn it all. All in good time, my dear lady, all in good time.

"We still have much to discuss. But we will have a chance in the morning, when we are all well-rested. I would like to offer my assistance with any matter that you feel requires it," he continued after a pause. "Of course, you probably would like to make arrangements to visit the scene where it all took place; it is a private family affair, after all, and it is up to you whichever you find is the proper course of action to bid farewell to your son and daughter-in-law. I believe it is important that you do so."

Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom nodded heavily. The baby stirred in his sheets. "We will talk in the morning, then," Dumbledore said, seeing that Neville might wake up at any moment. They all said good night, and with a sad grin, the Longbottoms walked back into the house, with Dumbledore and McGonagall watching. For a long minute they both remained on the spot, watching the lights from inside the house, their heads slightly bowed. McGonagall had to blink back tears furiously, and the usual titillating light of Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have been put out.

"Well," he said finally. "It's done. I believe we still might have time to join the celebrations. I will see you soon, I hope, Minerva." McGonagall only nodded. "Good night, professor."

"Good night, Albus." In a blink of an eye, the striped cat was lurking through the shadows once again, away from the house. Dumbledore stared after her for a few seconds, and then looked up at the house again, letting out a deep sigh.

"Good luck, Neville," he muttered. He turned on his heel and, with a movement of his robes, he was gone.

Mrs. Longbottom, with Mr. Longbottom tiredly in tow, climbed the steps of the winding staircase up to the second level, stopping when they reached one of the doors. She walked into the empty room. Twiggy had cleaned it up nicely, and there was a small fire in the hearth. But there was no furniture except for a chair and table and a full-length mirror, all covered with white sheets, and an old bed in one corner. Mr. Longbottom transfigured the old bed into a crib, and quickly conjured up some blankets and sheets. Before she put the baby in the crib, Mrs. Longbottom ran a gentle finger over the scar on his forehead, as if making sure it was really there. Then she laid him down to sleep and turned off the light. "Sweet dreams, Neville," she said from the doorway, before she and her husband closed the door and left.

Neville Longbottom turned over inside his blankets and continued to sleep, unaware of what had happened in the past twenty four hours; without knowing he was famous… He could not know that, at that very moment, people gathering in secret all over the country were lifting their goblets to say in quiet voices: "For Neville Longbottom… the boy who lived!"

* * *

You'll have to excuse me for barefacedly "borrowing" a few things verbatim from the books. Especially one of my favourite quotes: 

_"You flatter me, professor. Voldemort had powers I never did."_

_"Only because you are too… noble to use them."_

_"I'm lucky it's dark. I had not blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."_

I love that part. I really love Dumbledore (respectful silence) when he says things like that. J.K. Rowling is a genius.

Augusta Longbottom is one of my favourite characters, believe it or not. I think most people see her as this old lady who is embarrassingly honest (kind of like Luna, which is why I love her too, she can be so funny sometimes). Most would say they are annoyed at her insensitivity. But I think maybe she's been made that way by her situation, by what has happened to her and her family. So much trauma and despair perhaps have rendered her unsentimental, and having to put up with a grandson who is a bit of a clumsy dolt has lost her a great deal of patience and sensibility. So I don't think she's been like that her whole life, but I believe that, given her old age and sad family history, she hasn't got the same endurance she used to. I sympathize with her.

Mrs. Longbottom reminds me slightly of my own grandmother (on my father's side, as well). She is that kind of woman who speaks her mind unabashedly. What strikes me as a resemblance to Neville's grandmother is that mine is not very sentimental either. She's just not really about expressing feelings of love or of sorrow. Mrs. Longbottom is a special character to me in that sense, that she reminds me of one of the most important and most influential people in my life. My grandmother's taught me so much and constantly makes me laugh. In spite of her flaws, I still love her very much and I hope she remains the way she is, a very wise and strong woman a kindred spirit not hindered by age and no-longer-brand-new joints (she's 73 years old, but looks and acts and has the health of a 50-year-old). She's endured so much, for her family and for herself, just like Mrs. Longbottom, but she still takes things with a light heart and a big smile. That is why I dedicate this chapter to her.

(Come to think of it, she doesn't even read Harry Potter, or has ever seen the movies. But it really doesn't matter. Maybe someday I will coax her into the Potterverse at last.)


	4. Seal their fate II

The other One

-By E.G.R. Woods

Disclaimer: Original storyline, characters, events and places belong to the wonderful J.K Rowling. I'm just borrowing them. New characters belong to yours truly.

Warning: Contains spoilers of 5th book. I recommend reading the Order of the Phoenix before continuing.

* * *

-Seal their fate II-

_24 hours before…_

A gust of wind blew one of the windows open. Madeleine Lovegood puffed in annoyance at the sound of the banging and rattling glass panes and the flapping curtains, then got up very slowly from her rocking chair, one hand protectively over her stomach. She reached the window and shut it close again, turning the little latch. She listened carefully now, hoping Janus was still sound asleep upstairs.

"Oh, dear God!" she exclaimed, nearly jumping out of her skin. Someone was banging on the front door, knuckles rapping at the wood furiously. She hoped it was Remus. With a nervous swallow, she approached the door. Whoever was outside was about to knock it down if she didn't open soon. She stood on tiptoe and peered through the peephole.

"Sirius, thank God!" she blew a sigh of relief at the sight of her good friend. She unbolted the door and opened it wide, allowing the light from inside the house to illuminate the distressed face of the young man. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?" she asked, stepping aside for him to enter. But he just stood there, supporting himself against the frame of the door.

"Where's Remus?" Sirius asked breathlessly, his chest heaving with short gasps.

"What's wrong?"

"Where is Remus?"

"Sirius, please come in, you—"

"WHERE IS REMUS?"

Madeleine jumped back in fright, holding her chest and belly. Her heart started racing. She had never had Sirius shout at her that way. He seemed to be out of himself; he almost looked demoniac, his fierce stare glowing red with the light from the burning fireplace of the living room reflected in his eyes. He noticed her tense and stopped glowering in such a menacing way, and exhaled tiredly.

"Just tell me where he is," he pleaded, his voice and manner softer this time. Madeleine swallowed hard, ready to reach into her pocket for her wand if it was necessary. "Please," Sirius added, looking now as tense and frightened as her.

"What is your son's name going to be?" Madeleine asked, voice shaking.

Sirius did a double-take. Madeleine was asking him a security question, something only the real Sirius would know, to make sure this was not someone impersonating him. He realized he had frightened her enough with his behavior that she doubted who he was.

"Ryan, even if we still don't know for sure it will be a boy, but I've got a feeling. And your daughter's name is going to be Diana, even if you don't know it's really going to be a girl, but you've got a feeling, too," he replied after a moment. Madeleine blew a sigh of relief and stopped holding her belly so protectively.

"I'm sorry… I had to be certain."

"I know. I'm sorry too. I just need to know urgently."

"He is in the warehouse," she finally responded in a trembling whisper.

"Has he transformed?" Sirius asked worriedly, finally stepping inside. Madeleine closed the door and they both went to sit at the dining table.

"Yes. He's been in there for three days already. We had a miscalculation, we thought the full moon was two days ago. But we should've known. How much more appropriate could it be? Halloween night, full moon, and this dreadful windy weather for these dreadful times," she said with an ironic chuckle. "We ran out of wolf's bane. And he didn't dare get in touch with anyone to get some more, especially not risking transformation if he was out at night. And I can't go out either, I can't take Janus with me but I can't leave him either," Madeleine explained, gesturing to her large belly.

"And it's not safe for anyone."

"He had been so nervous about that, he couldn't even conjure his patronus, or else he would have contacted you or someone else from the Order," she added. "I have been, too."

"I understand. I have had the same problem. It's not strong enough. We have very little to be cheerful about. Especially tonight," Sirius said somberly.

"Sirius, are you alright? You look a fright," she asked, touching his arm. He was looking into empty space. "Where's Sam? What happened tonight?"

Sirius seemed to snap out of it as soon as she said that. He looked distressed all over again, something not seen often. Sirius was rarely the kind of person who ever had something to be stressed about. "Tonight… I don't know what happened tonight, if anything has happened. But I have a terrible feeling…" he mumbled, barely audible.

"Sirius?"

He looked at her when she said his name. "Maddy," he began, suddenly looking very agitated, "please don't tell Remus I came looking for him. I only thought, perhaps, and I was probably mistaken—"

"Thought what?"

Sirius looked embarrassed. "I thought he might have… betrayed Lily and James," he said in a very low voice.

"Betray them how?" Madeleine looked surprised.

"Revealing their whereabouts to someone— anyone! A Death Eater! Lord Voldemort! Heaven knows!" Sirius practically shouted. Madeleine instinctively recoiled slightly at the sound of _that_ name. The baby in her womb gave a great wiggle.

"You really—you think that he would be capable of doing such a thing?" she asked, outraged. "Remus would never… He has never… He's not even their secret keeper!"

Sirius was thoughtful for a moment, before his expression turned pained. "He… isn't?" he whispered. "How do you know?"

"Because he has stayed with me for as long as I can remember, he has been with me even since before Lily and James and Frank and Alice went into hiding, and when they performed the Fidelius Charm. If Remus had been appointed as a secret keeper—"

"Oh, dear God!" Sirius exclaimed, much like Madeleine had done a while ago. He was frantic again, and he got up and paced a bit. Then he stopped in front of her, but did not look down at her. "I have to speak to Dumbledore. Maybe he can tell me… I need to know they are fine."

"Sirius, calm down. I'm sure everything is fine. You shouldn't got bother Dumbledore at a time like this," Madeleine said, taking Sirius's hand. She looked at the cuckoo clock on the wall and saw that it was midnight in half a minute. Sirius was trembling.

"He's coming for them…" he was muttering, eyes lost in space. "He's found them…"

Something about what Sirius was saying really made Madeleine uneasy. She wished so badly for Remus to be there, her voice of reason, to put her at ease, and Sirius, too. In an attempt to calm herself, or just cover her anxiety, she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "It's alright, Sirius," she said as firmly as she could.

"No, it's not. Can't you feel it? It's terrible," he replied. The cuckoo started to whirr and wail to announce the stroke of midnight. At that very instant, massive goose bumps sprouted all over her body, making every single hair stand on end. She let out a trembling sigh. The baby seemed to shiver in her womb, too. She didn't know what might have caused it, what could have passed through her mind so swiftly so as to give her that sensation, but she was suddenly filled with a deep sorrow, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Where are you going?" she asked as she came out of a sudden trance. Sirius had let go of her hand and was now standing before the fireplace. "You can't risk the Floo network!"

"It doesn't matter anymore. I have to speak with Dumbledore. I need him to tell me how to find James and Lily and Frank and Alice. I need to see them." He had already grabbed a pinch of Floo powder.

"Dumbledore won't be able to tell you. He's not a secret keeper either!" Madeleine argued. Sirius threw the powder into the hearth, and the flames instantly turned green.

"If the Fidelius Charm has just been broken, then it won't matter anymore," he said darkly.

Before Madeleine could stop him, Sirius had stepped into the roaring fireplace and stood firmly among the green flames. With a booming voice, he said clearly "The Hogwarts Headmaster Office!", and instantly he vanished behind a puff of smoke. The flames turned back to their normal color, and the fireplace was empty. Sirius was gone, leaving a heavy-hearted Madeleine all by herself with silent tears spilling and a great somber feeling at the very core of her womb, where her baby was going back to a restless sleep.

* * *

The great black dog was sprinting through the trees, going deeper into the forest, further away from the lights and sounds of the quiet village in the valley below. His keen ears could still perceive the faint roaring of an engine, flying away in the starless night sky. Sirius stopped to look around. Black and white through his colorblind dog eyes, he found he had arrived back at the place where he had apparated from Dumbledore's office. Now he needed to see the Headmaster again.

Just as he was changing back into his human form, the events of that night began to flood back into his mind. He had taken his motorbike, leaving Samantha alone, and rushed to the forest on the outskirts of the village of Godric's Hollow; he hid his bike among the bushes, and before he knew it, he had apparated to the doorstep of Remus's house. He just had to make sure that his suspicions were not true. As much as he hated not trusting his good friend, he realized these days, everything that had been happening, hardly gave any chance to trust and certainty. To his great relief, Madeleine Lovegood had proven him wrong. But that did not dissipate the darkness that had deliberately settled over that fateful day.

After leaving Remus's house by Floo network, he had arrived at the Headmaster's office at the Hogwarts castle. Formalities thrown aside, Sirius demanded in the most respectful tone he could manage to know how to get to Lily and James, and also to Frank and Alice. What he really wished, however, was for Dumbledore to be unable to do so, to tell him anything; that would mean that the secret keepers had not divulged the secret locations, the Fidelius Charm had not been broken, and that the Potters and the Longbottoms were safe.

Unfortunately, that had not been the case. Sirius had known it from the very moment his gaze met Dumbledore's saddened eyes. He told Sirius, in a drone-like voice, where to look. He didn't tell him what had happened, he just explained that arrangements had already been made, that Hagrid was on his way to do his part. Sirius could not understand what kind of arrangements were those, what was Hagrid's part in all this, or what was going to happen now. But he took his leave, and decided to find out on his own. Saying goodbye to Dumbledore, he had disapparated with a loud crack.

He had gone back to the forest, returning to the place he had hidden his motorbike. Hurriedly he brought it out of the bushes. He rode as fast as he could out of the forest and down the steep hill to the valley of Godric's Hollow. That is where they were hiding; he knew the cottages well, he had been there before, a long time ago. He wanted to see his friends, make sure they were alright in spite of the ill omen of Dumbledore's words. But half-way there, something in his conscience was telling him he had to see Frank and Alice first.

When he arrived at the very edge of the forest, he killed the engine, and pushed the bike along the rest of the way. Hagrid was already there when he arrived, digging through a pile of rubble. He didn't even hear or notice when Sirius approached. Staring at the remnants of what once had been a two-story cottage, Sirius had felt a dreary cold sweat creep up his spine. There was nothing left standing; wood and stone, piled in a hazardous heap, were charred here and there; the grass and plants surrounding the house were blackened; ash swirled in the breeze. He stared in complete awe, stunned, paralyzed, choked. Frank and Alice…

"Oi! Who's there?" Hagrid had called out, finally noting there was someone in the vicinity, and quickly drew out and brandished a pink umbrella. Sirius couldn't reply; he had been rendered speechless. The corpulent groundskeeper walked toward him with a threatening step, but stopped in his tracks when he realized the stranger was Sirius Black. Not knowing what else to say or do, Hagrid greeted him briefly before turning back to the rubble, picking through it again, throwing massive pieces of wood and stone aside as he went.

"Perhaps yeh can gimme a han'," he said over the noise of his digging. "I think I migh've found 'im already. Looks like I made it jus' in time."

Sirius still couldn't move. He wondered for a fleeting moment how Hagrid had turned up so quickly if he could not apparate, and how long had he been on his way if he had to use regular means of transportation. But it didn't matter. Sirius had no idea of what Hagrid was talking about. What could he possibly have found?

His question had been answered right away. Bending down in the middle of the wooden carcass, Hagrid had picked up something. A bundle of white fabric –sheets— with something wrapped inside. He made his way back erratically to firm ground and approached Sirius, who was still silently taking in the devastating scene.

"I wish yeh hadn' come, Sirius," Hagrid said, his voice lower. "I wish yeh hadn' seen this." And he had patted Sirius's shoulder consolingly with his large hand. Sirius was nearly knocked off his feet, but he managed to regain his voice.

"How- how-" he sputtered, his eyes wide in horror, his mouth wide open. "What happened here? Where are Frank and Alice?"

Hagrid hadn't said anything in response. He just held the bundle of sheets toward Sirius, and gently pushed some apart. There was a baby inside, with a wisp of mousy brown hair and a tiny round face. He started to cry upon exposure to the cold night air. On his forehead there was a clearly etched scar, still red and swollen, in the shape of a lightning bolt. Sirius did not know what to make of this.

"Neville? Frank and Alice's son? How… how come he was in there, under the rubble? What's this on his forehead? WHAT HAPPENED TO FRANK AND ALICE?"

Sirius had started shouting. The baby continued to cry. Hagrid held him close in his massive arms once again, covering him so that he wouldn't be cold. He hissed at Sirius to be quiet.

"Don't want the _muggles_ ter come an' start snoopin' 'round, do yeh?" he scolded. The baby quieted down a bit. "I don' know what happened here. I jus' came here 'cos Dumbledore told me ter come. He told me ter find Neville an' get 'im outta here. That's all I know."

"Dumbledore knew this was happening?"

"I don't know. All I can guess is that sumthin' happened here that had sumthin' ter do with… You-Know-Who," Hagrid continued, and he shivered. "If yeh want answers, then I'd tell yeh ter go ter Dumbledore an' ask 'im the questions. For my part, my work here is done. I'm takin' Neville with me. This place isn' safe anymore. Yeh don' wanna be seen 'round here tonight. This whole place'll be swarming with _muggles_ in no time."

Hagrid began to walk away quickly, in the direction of a patch of tall, lush trees. Sirius still could not think straight. He was trying to make sense out of all of this, but he couldn't. There were too many things he didn't know, couldn't understand. He needed to find out what happened. He needed to go back to Dumbledore.

"Wait. Hagrid," Sirius said, turning to follow, and Hagrid stopped. For a moment, Sirius didn't know what to say, what he could do to alleviate some of the ill foreboding in his heart. He was so puzzled at the events of this night. "Where are you taking him?" he asked, but not really caring for the answer; he was more curious as to know what had happened to him, and to Frank and Alice.

"Can't tell yeh, Sirius. Sorry," Hagrid replied, not unkindly. "I think it's best if we keep it as secret as we can, eh?"

"Well, how are you getting… wherever it is you're going? I think it would be best if you took my motorcycle. It's big enough, and it might get you there faster. It's a flying motorcycle. You can drive or you can fly, whatever suits you."

Hagrid thought for a moment, and then agreed to it. Sirius fetched his motorcycle and Hagrid clambered onto it, still holding the baby safely in the crook of his arm.

"Thanks, Sirius. This is a great help," Hagrid said. Sirius thought he heard his friend's voice crack slightly. "I should go now. They might be expectin' I get back soon."

"Sirius, yeh need ter go home. I know yeh wanna understand what's goin' on, and I'm sure Dumbledore will be able ter explain. But yeh should go home. Yeh should be with Sam an' yer daughter. They shouldn' be alone tonight. And neither should yeh."

Sirius could only nod in understanding. There was a lump in his throat all of a sudden. He watched Hagrid start the motorbike, the engine sputtering loudly as it roared to life. A moment later, the motorbike was rising off the ground, higher and higher, until it was barely visible against the inky black sky. When he couldn't see it any longer, he exhaled, only realizing he had been holding his breath. Another sound assaulted him. Faint voices, steps, and even a few dog barks. There was a group of people, probably all _muggles_, approaching, just on the other side of a hill, carrying flashlights and lanterns. They had seen or heard something odd in the middle of the night, half of them most likely startled out of their sleeps, and they were coming to investigate. Suddenly afraid, Sirius broke into a sprint, his boots scuffing the grass, toward the patch of trees Hagrid had intended to go to a moment ago. Before anyone could see him, he slipped into the shadows of the forest.

It was better to change into his dog shape, because he could run faster and be more aware of his surroundings. He was frightened; he almost sensed things lurking all around him among the shadows, as he ran and ran. It all just looked the same to him; black shadows, blackness all around. He needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

Standing once again in his human form, near the bushes where his motorbike had been, he tried to get his breath back, wincing at a stitch on his side. He was terrified, he realized. This whole night was terrifying. His thoughts wandered to Sam, alone in the house, probably worried sick. He wanted to go home, go back to her, to comfort her, but he knew he couldn't. Not right away. He needed answers. He needed Dumbledore. He had to know what had gone wrong, and whether Neville would be alright.

_He will be alright, _he told himself, getting ready to apparate again. _Everything is going to be alright._

But deep down, he knew he didn't really know that. Despair washed over him, making him wince painfully as if he had just been injured. Dropping to the ground, he sat still for a moment, feeling a sense of defeat overcome him; then he buried his face in his hands and wept silently.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the very edge of Godric's Hollow, inside a small cottage surrounded by trees and bushes, oblivious to what had taken place only a few acres away, Lily and James Potter sat together in front of the burning fireplace, ready to call it a night after finally managing to put their son, Harry, to sleep.

* * *

There. That should set the tone for the rest of the fic. I'm a bit dark and romantic. But I can also be funny (or at least I think so. I hope so). Hopefully I can brew a good combination to entice and satisfy the lot of you. Or rather more simply put, hopefully you'll like it enough not to feel like throwing something at me. I bruise like a peach. 


End file.
